


A con-man, a nerd, Captain America, and a secret agent walk into a market

by RedPineTree



Series: Crack!fics [2]
Category: Gravity Falls, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author doesn't know crap about timelines, Author is not very intelligent, Avengers Family, BAMF Grunkle Ford, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic Avengers, Feral Ford, Gen, Grunkle Ford Has Issues, Grunkle Ford Needs A Hug, Grunkle Stan Has Issues, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, If they're going to get into trouble, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jewish Pines Family, Journal 3, Kinda, Nick Fury is Not Amused, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Grunkle Ford, Protective Grunkle Stan, SHIELD is Kinda dickish, Stan O' War II, Stan steals like everything, Tony Being Tony, What Was I Thinking?, but that’s okay because this is a crack fic, i cannot apologize enough, i'm very very sorry, not very canon compliant, they do it together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedPineTree/pseuds/RedPineTree
Summary: “Seriously? You want us to track down two old geezers? What did they do, make a noise complaint? Or did they drive too slowly?” Tony asked incredulously.In which Tony, Clint, and Steve are put together on a mission to collect Stanford and Stanley Pines because of possibly photoshopped photos of a corn chip with a bowtie.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I write is always crack. Wtf am I doing with my damn life?

“Seriously? You want us to track down two old geezers? What did they do, make a noise complaint? Or did they drive too slowly?” Tony asked incredulously, looking at the pictures of the two old men Fury had asked them to bring in. 

They were obviously brothers, both sharing the same large nose, squarish face, and big ears. One had and a blue and yellow raincoat; you could see a red turtleneck underneath, and the other had a mullet and wore a red beanie, a white shirt, and wore a long brown coat. 

Tony slid the pictures and files across the table to Steve and Clint, sighing inwardly. Of course, Fury had to put him on a mission with the two most annoying people on the team-- Bird Brain and Captain Stick up his Ass. 

“Stark, take this seriously. The one called Stanley has committed several crimes. Drug smuggling, tax evasion, theft...I could go on.” Fury said with a glare at Tony.

“It says here that you tried to recruit them a few months ago?” Steve asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You're trying to force them into recruitment, aren't you? If you arrest them, they have no choice but to stay here. And if they're staying here, they might as well just join SHIELD to get out of prison.” Tony said smugly, and Fury’s scowl told him he had figured it out.

“Not only that Stark, but there were some mysterious “earthquakes” in Gravity Falls, Oregon. I had some agents there at the time and when they came back, they were very...twitchy. Scared, even. An earthquake doesn't do that to someone permanently. I believe that the Pines have something to do with this.” Fury admitted sourly and placed another set of pictures on the table. 

Tony examined them, feeling his eyes widen slightly. The sky was a dark shade, a large X drawn across. It looked like space was pouring from the X. A man in a trench coat and a child were seen looking up at it. The next picture was of a yellow, one-eyed, pyramid-shaped triangle with a bow tie, arms, and legs. It looked like a corn chip.

There were various weird things in the other pictures such as a water tower with teeth, monsters, and a giant flaming lumberjack, but the one that alarmed Tony the most was one of the old man in the trench coat falling out of a floating pyramid, a glowing blue collar, and chains fastened around his neck. It was obvious that he was trying to hang himself.

Steve gaped a little at the pictures, and Clint muttered, “What the hell is this?”

“No idea. That's why we’re trying to find the Pines.” Fury walked around the room as he spoke, and stopped near the door.

“You'll find them in New Jersey. They docked there yesterday.” With that, Fury opened the door and swept out, black coat fluttering behind him. 

Tony snorted from where he sat at the table, and said, “Who’s ready to beat up some old men?”


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Clint meet Ford and Stan. Things don't go very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't expect a response like that.. I like odd crossovers, but I'm not a very good action writer/writer in general, so i hope that no one cringes at my actions scenes.

* * *

“Hey, Pointdexter. Hate to alarm you, but I think we’re being trailed,” Stan said, walking through the outdoor market with his brother. Ford didn't say anything, tensing minutely before mouthing, “Who?”

“Um...two blond guys. One’s tall and muscular and the other one is shorter and muscular.” Stan made exaggerated motions as he spoke and Ford pretended to laugh.

They had both gone through the routine of being trailed before. If you acted like you knew someone was following you, it could get messy fast.

“Stanley, we need to get lost. Quickly. We need to go into a crowd and split up. We can meet back by the boat.” Ford said quietly as Stan faked browsing at one of the fruit stalls. They stalled long enough for the two men to get moderately close before Ford loudly spoke.

“Stan, you're taking too long. I'm on a tight schedule, you know. Let's meet up at the hotel when you're done.”

Stan shrugged, and as Ford gave Stan one last _Don't do anything stupid look_ , he departed into the crowd; Stan saw the men share looks.

 _Time for me to disappear. Poindexter thinks he's always right. Sometimes stupid is better than subtle_ , Stan thought, and without withdrew a smoke bomb from his pocket. He threw it in the men’s direction, and yelled as loudly as he could (which was very loudly), “There’s a bomb!”

Immediately, the whole market descended into pandemonium. There was a bang as the smoke bomb went off and as people shoved, pushed, and screamed to get out of the market, Stan pushed his way through the crowd. The smoke could clear anytime, and he wasn't going to be there for when it did.

“Out of the way! Move it!” Stan barked, shoving people to the side as he went.

As he neared the market exit, he saw the two men from earlier, following him with ease. They were strong enough to push through the crowd with no problem and Stan cursed his luck.

“Stan! You were supposed to be stealthy!” Stan jumped as Ford hissed his name and dragged him out of the crowd.

“I couldn't lose them,” Stan said with a pant, slightly exerted from all that pushing and shoving. He ignored Ford’s second comment because his brother was ungrateful (and right) sometimes. People kept running and as the market emptied out, Stan knew their chance of escape was getting slimmer.

Ford’s eyes turned dark for a moment. “We may have to fight our way out of this Stanley. I still have my gun and you still have your brass knuckles.” He hissed quietly, and not a moment after, the two blondes were upon them. They didn't attack, they just stood there.

“What do you want?” Stan finally asked tersely.

“Stanley and Stanford Pines? We need you to come with us,” The shorter blond spoke, voice as steely as his grey eyes.

Stan growled, slipping on his brass knuckles. Both men tensed, and Ford did as well. The tension was thick enough that you could cut it with a knife. The taller blond finally said, “There’s no point in fighting. Ju-”

That was all it took for Ford to pull out his gun, but it was easily knocked out of his hands by the shorter blond. That didn't deter Ford as he leaped at the blond and pinned him to the ground. He took a knife strapped to his leg, just barely slicing shorter blond in the stomach. Blood welled up, and Ford was thrown off into Stan's legs.

The tall blond punched Stan in the ribs, and Stan swore he heard something crack. With a grunt of pain, he swung again but was knocked to the ground as Ford was rolled into his legs by the shorter blond. "Fuck's sake, Ford, watch it!" Stan snapped half-heartedly as he got back to his feet. Ford panted for a moment, knife lost, but gun in reach.

“Steve, watch out!” The shorter blond barked as Ford reached his gun and shot at the tall one, Steve. Steve barely dodged, and the shorter one began fighting Ford for the gun.

All in all, Ford and Stan were losing badly. The shorter blond had Ford in a chokehold, gun thrown somewhere, and Stan’s ribs were screaming in pain. He made towards Ford, eyes narrowed. Steve didn't seem inclined to attack him again, rather talking into a communicator or something.

Ford clawed wildly at the shorter man’s arms, snarling and snapping as he struggled to free himself before the lack of air made him pass out. He finally went limp, darkness edging his vision. If he pretended to be out, then he could escape when they had their guard down. The shorter man let go and Ford slumped to the ground, allowing himself to faceplant.

“Ford! I swear if you killed him, I'll kill you!” Stanley roared and threw himself at the shorter blond. “LEFT HOOK!” he yelled his fist connecting with the other man’s face. There was a slight tussle before a loud thump as Stan landed on the ground, breathing heavily. Stan looked over at Ford, and Ford gave his brother a subtle wink.

“Run,” Ford mouthed, but Stan stayed stubbornly put, one hand on his rib, the other clenched in a fist.

Steve walked over, Ford could hear him quietly say, “Stark's is coming. Search them for weapons?” Steve then walked a few feet away, muttering something into the communicator.

“Oi, don’t touch me!” Stan snapped as the shorter blond approached him and began patting him down. He threw a fist at the blond, and guy easily dodged, grabbing his arm and twisting it. Stan yelped, and Ford had to stop himself from growling. _How dare they hurt Stanley? I'll make them pay for that._

The man let go of Stan’s arm when he was finished searching (he had taken Stan’s brass knuckles, ID, and shopping list) and moved onto Ford. Immediately, Ford kicked him hard in the balls and short blond fell to the ground with a groan.

Steve turned right at that moment, seeing shorter blond go down. He seemed very disgruntled as he went to his aid, and Ford grinned, feral and eyes crazy.

He snarled, teeth bared as he snapped at Steve, Steve seemed a bit taken aback, but he still fought. Stan could already tell he was going to win. “Go Stan. I'll be fine,” he mouthed as Steve came at him.

Stan hesitated a moment before running off, back towards the Stan O' War just in time to see Ford dodge a punch from Steve.

Sometimes Ford was right. This was one of those times. There was no escape if both of them got captured.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is smug and isn't allowed to drive, Clint is driving, Steve is watching a drugged Ford, and Stan is plotting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhh I am literally overwhelmed with the response to this fic. I've never seen anything like it, and it makes me happy, so have another chapter.

* * *

“You only got one of them? What happened to, _‘oh no Tony, we don't need you. They're only two old men, I doubt they'll even fight us and if they do, it'll be easy.’_ Yet here I hear that Capsicle punched an elder and that Legolas got hit in the balls and is bleeding like a stuck pig- and wow, look at that swelling cut on your jaw..that's gonna be a nasty bruise- and that now we lost one of them,” Tony ranted, ignoring the old man glaring them down through the thick soundproof glass.

Clint snorted and rolled his eyes, “And you would have done better? You would have hit him with a blast and killed him.”

Steve interrupted before they could start fighting. “It doesn't matter. I'm sure Fury won't mind. We got one twin, the one without a criminal record. We just arrest the other one and bring him here.”

“I can't believe you're actually doing this. Are you aware that these are two senior citizens? I'm surprised you haven't tried to set them free yet,” Tony snapped, frustration now turned on Steve.

“Fury said they're dangerous and have information. Why should we let criminals run free just because they're older?” Steve hissed back, and then there was a thunk.

Tony, Steve, and Clint all turned around to see the old man banging his head on the glass pane window. He didn't seem to be showing any sign of stopping as he continued hitting the window even as the glass didn't even crack.

“Damn it. Steve, go back there and do something to stop him. As entertaining as it would be to see Fury get pissed, we can't have him half brain damaged when we get back to SHIELD. Which twin is he?” Tony asked as he turned back around the face the front.

“That's Stanford. Stanley’s the one without the cleft chin,” Clint said, and at Tony’s slightly incredulous look he said, “You don't do a mission without taking a very close look at your targets.”

Steve sighed and got out of the car, “Clint, you're driving. I don't trust Tony not to speed.” With that, he closed the front door and got into the back with Stanford.

Stanford stopped his banging for a moment, fixing Steve with a cold glare.

“Hello. I'm Steve Rogers," he said with the most sincere grin he could pull, and for a moment surprise lit up in Stanford’s eyes. They returned to their coldness so quickly that Steve wasn't sure if he had imagined the surprise.

“Stanford Pines. But you already know that. I would love to shake your hand, but unfortunately, you've handcuffed me.” Stanford growled blandly, and Steve felt his smile drop.

“We just need to bring you in and ask you a few questions,” Steve said with a sigh.

Stanford let out an icy laugh. “And then I'll never leave the building again. I don't think so, Rogers. You think that I don't see right through your lies?” He rolled his eyes and grinned. It was as cold as was everything else the old man did. “There's not a thing in the world that could make me tell you what you want to know. I've been in scenarios like this before. The person who tried to hold me? He's dead now.”

Steve sat in stunned silence at the direct threat. “Did he just admit to killing a man?” Tony asked, shock filling his voice as he spoke through the coms. Steve didn't respond, and Stanford went back to hitting his head on the window.

“Hey, stop that,” Steve snapped, patience gone as he pulled the man away from the window.

Stanford snorted, “What, you want me to be of use? You're not getting anything from me so you should just let me.”

“Cap, just sedate him,” Clint spoke through the coms, and as he did so, a window opened in the glass; a needle came through the partition neatly presented on a tray.

“I've been working on a new sedation with Brucie. It essentially makes the target drunk as hell. It was pretty funny when we tried it on Bruce, but I'm pretty sure it'll work on this guy too,” Tony cut in, and Clint snorted, thinking of Bruce stumbling around, completely hammered.

Stanford’s eyes widened as he saw the needle, and Steve had a split second to pin him down in his distraction.

“Wait! Wait. I'll stop. Don't,” Stanford choked out, and Clint muttered, “Don't listen to him. Just sedate him.”

Steve looked down at the man beneath him. His eyes were wide and full of fear, hatred, and anger, while his whole body shook faintly. He saw the snarl edging up on Stanford’s face, and then Ford bit him on the hand. "Ow," Steve hissed, withdrawing.

"Don't touch me, _I bite_." Stanford glared at him, teeth bared. Steve gave Stanford a weary look, and Tony snickered. "The only time Cap will ever get bitten."

Steve flushed, but grabbed the needle and carefully jabbed it into Stanford’s neck, avoiding his mouth with caution.

Steve felt Stanford go limp beneath him almost immediately and sighed in relief. “What a piece of work. I wonder if his brother will be worse.”

“My bruh’er Stanl’y is brave. ‘E d’eat’d Bill.” Stanford mumbled, eyes a bit crossed as he slumped down in his seat. It was such a whole change in demeanor that Steve couldn't help blinking.

“Wow, it is like he's drunk,” Steve muttered.

“‘M not dr’nk. I c’n c’nt my f’gers,” Stanford slurred and began struggling to bring his handcuffed wrists in front of him. He grunted with effort before finally giving up. “‘R not.”

Steve stifled a laugh, but Tony was openly laughing over the mics.

“S ‘kay. I kn’w I got siiiix f’gers.” Stanford said cheerfully but then frowned. “Imma fr’k.”

The laughter stopped and Steve took a moment to look at Stanford’s hands to see if his claims were true or if he was drunker than they thought.

“Huh. He really does have six fingers. Is that on file?” He murmured.

“I guess not. Would that really be important?” Tony asked, and Clint shrugged.

“We’re here, so we can tell Fury about it later, I suppose.” The archer said, the car coming to a stop.

“Wh’eers Stanl’y?” Stanford slurred, looking around blearily as Clint opened the back door and helped him out.

“Yeah..he’ll join you later. I'll get Fury. Go put him in the interrogation room, Steve. Tony, go try to do something helpful for once.” Clint directed, and Tony rolled his eyes.

“See if I and Brucie ever make you arrows again.” He muttered, walking away.

* * *

Stan narrowed his eyes as he watched Steve, shorter blond and brunette leave the car. His brother staggered along, looking like he was completely inebriated. He was stumbling and Stan wondered if they had drugged him or if he was badly hurt. The group split up, shorter blond and brunette going in different directions and Steve dragging Ford along. Ford looked back for a moment, eyes meeting with Stan’s. His eyes were glassy and slightly crossed, but as he looked at Stan, faint recognition showed. He muttered something before he was finally dragged inside.

For kidnappers, they were surprisingly unsubtle and easy to track. Whether Stan owed them money from years past or these douches wanted Ford for something, Stan couldn't figure out. Either way, they were going to pay for messing with a Pines.

He began walking around the building, looking for any secret back doors he could use. He was going to rescue Ford. (Again.)

For once, he wouldn't be the screw-up. 


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interrogation with a drugged, childish Ford goes poorly. Along with everything else afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTES-
> 
> Alright, so the next chapter is a Stan chapter. I promise. There will be badassery and everything. The only problem is that since I'm kinda just dumping chapters right now, chapter 5 (Stan's chapter) is the last one I have pre-written. So would you guys rather wait for me to write chapter six and seven? Or should I just dump chapter 5 too and then like no updates for a week?
> 
> Also, I suppose I should put a TW on this chapter for flashbacks of torture and rude language (The R word)

* * *

“What the hell did you do to him?” Fury asked eyebrow raised as he stared at the older man sitting in the interrogation room. Stanford was muttering to himself, looking around like he was trying to figure out where he was.

“Well, he was trying to give himself a concussion. We sedated him. For his own safety, director,” Clint replied, and Fury sighed.

“Just get on with it, Michaels. We’ll be back when you've gotten him to answer.” Fury turned his unimpressed gaze to a younger agent who whipped to attention at the sound of his name.

“Okay, Director Fury. I won't let you down!” Michaels said seriously, grabbing his file and rushing into the room.

“For your own sake I hope you don't,” Fury replied with a snort and walked the other way with a dramatic turn.

“Alright, Cap. I brought cards so we can play in the surveillance room.” Clint said, and followed up with, “Poker or blackjack?”

* * *

Ford stared at the pictures on the table in front of him. His mind was screaming at him _“No, bad, get away!”_ But he couldn't get away. He was trapped in the chair.

“Explain this,” the man said, taking a picture of Bill and shoving it right in Ford’s face. Ford flinched away, a small whine building in his throat as he looked everywhere other than the picture.

“No? How about this?” the man asked, sounding mad. He picked up a picture of the Fearamid, and Ford froze. He didn't like this at all. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't like this man.

“No. Go ‘way,” Ford muttered, and now the man looked completely pissed.

“Look here, you six-fingered freak. You are never, ever going to leave here, you're never going to see Stanley again unless you answer my questions, I'll make your life here hell.” The man snarled, and Ford gave a weak growl back. His mind just wasn't where it was supposed to be.

“Dick,” Ford mumbled, and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The man threw the pictures off the table in frustration and began slapping and punching Ford. “You fucking retard! Simple fucking questions!” He yelled, and Ford couldn't even bring his hands up to block the blows as they were handcuffed.

“‘M sorry.” Ford whimpered, over and over until the man finally stopped.

“Alright, let's try that again.” The man picked up the picture of Bill once more.

“Explain.” Ford stared at the table, before quietly saying, “Bill. He’s sa d’mon.”

His face hurt and his stomach hurt and his head was so fuzzy. His hands were starting to lose feeling.

“A demon? Tell me more.”

“He c’n t’ke over people. Craaafty. Sm’rt. Hee’s ded now.” Ford broke off, mumbling something about mindscapes.

“Pay attention. Next picture. Who's he?”

Ford barely glanced at the photo before deciding he wanted out. “St’p it! I dn’t wanna see dis anymore.” He slurred, tugging at the restraints on his wrists. It was like Bill all over again. He could feel the voltage. The electricity ran through him. He screamed until his throat was raw.

“No, no...lemme go! No m’re!” Ford screamed, half delusional. He could feel the collar around his neck. The cuffs tight around his wrists and ankles. Blue lightning. Pain.

The guy was slapping him angrily and Ford flinched away just as more people burst in. Suddenly, his wrists were released and Ford sprang out of the chair, taking a few stumbling steps towards the door. He was pinned down. They were trying to kill him and he couldn't even fight back. Ford screamed until his throat was raw and then he screamed some more. They barked orders, yelling, “Stark, come fix this!”

They were probably trying to fix his hands. His freak, mutant hands. “‘M f’ne. My h’ds are f’ne!” He screeched, all of it like a huge, horrible nightmare. Finally, he just passed out, the world spinning as it went black.

* * *

“Should he be doing that?” Steve asked, looking up from his cards to the monitor. Clint barely glanced up, then frowned.

“Turn up the volume," he said, and as Steve did he heard Stanford screaming at the top of his lungs. It was a scream full of pain and desperation as Michaels growled and began slapping the older man.

"What the fuck.” Clint got to his feet, leaving his cards on the table as he made his way back to the room, with Steve following.

He quickly opened the door, using the button by the door to unlock Stanford’s cuffs. The man’s face was red and swollen and he had a black eye. Stanford stumbled out of the chair, taking a few steps towards the door before Michaels tackled him.

“This is my interrogation! I'll do it as I see fit,” Michaels spat at Clint, and Clint narrowed his eyes.

“He's obviously sick, Michaels. We have a protocol. As your superior, I'm telling you to take a break,” Clint growled back.

“Whatever. I'm telling Fury, though. He's not going to be mad at me for your stupidity and softness. I was getting stuff from him,” Michaels said and left the room.

Steve rushed over to where Stanford was still laying and placed a hand on his forehead. “Did Stark say anything about side effects with the drugs? I think he's hallucinating.”

“Fucking hell.” Clint snarled, pulling out his phone and trying to ignore Stanford’s screams. “Stark, come fix this!”

Stanford screeched something that was so slurred and jumbled that Clint couldn't even understand it.

“What is that awful noise?” Tony asked, and Clint growled out,

“Stanford. Your drug has some unfortunate side effects.”

“It-”

Clint cut Tony off saying, “Just because it worked on Banner doesn't mean it'll work for everyone. Bruce has a different metabolism and immune system than most humans.”

There was a brief silence and Clint looked over his shoulder. Stanford had passed out.

“Alright, I'm coming. Well, Bruce and I. We’ll be there soon.”


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley is a BAMF, Bruce is helpful, and the old man jokes are tiring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some furious writing and I'm still one chapter ahead. Here, have another chapter!

* * *

Stan quietly crept through the hallways of the building. It had been simple enough to knock out some angry black-haired man leaving the building and steal his card. The card read James Michaels, and for some reason, it felt oddly good to punch his lights out. He couldn't help but wonder how Ford was holding up. _Probably making their head hurt with science,_ he told himself, trying to push down any anxiety about his brother's fate. It had been around one pm when Ford had been taken and now it was around five. Stan had spent four hours making an elaborate plan to get in, rescue his brother, and get out. The only problem was that he didn't even know where his brother was being held.

He held his breath, ducking into a closet as he heard a single set of footsteps heading down the hallway.

He peeked out, seeing a scrawny, curly-haired man with glasses in a pale yellow shirt. He was looking down at a tablet and whole appearance screamed _nerd_.

The man walked past the closet, and Stan slipped out, quickly treading behind him, keeping his footsteps quiet as he drew his knife. Then, he swiftly threw an arm around the man’s neck and dragged the man back to the closet before anyone could see.

The man looked at Stan in confusion, but his eyes widened as he saw the gleam of the knife in the dimness of the closet.

“You really don't want to-” the man began calmly, and Stan raised an eyebrow, cutting him off.

“I don't want to, but I will if you don't take me to my brother,” Stan growled quietly, bringing the knife up to the other man’s throat, and letting it rest there for a moment. He felt the man gulp lightly.

“You have five seconds to make up your mind.” Stan warned, “Five, four...”

“Your brother is down the hall, left and three doors down,” the man said in a rush, and Stan snorted but removed the knife from his throat.

“Like I'm going to believe you. You're going to lead me there. What's your name?”

“Bruce.”

“Awesome. Lead the way, Brucie,” Stan ordered, opening the closet door, but still making sure to occasionally put a little bit of pressure on the knife to keep Bruce hurrying along.

“Don't call me that,” Bruce muttered, leading Stan down the hall.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. At least I'm not calling you dead body.” Stan let out a chuckle at the own joke, and Bruce snorted.

“You couldn't kill me anyway," he replied, taking a left and entering a password into a keypad. Stan gave the man an incredulous look but said nothing.

The password was T51st4eb35t, and Bruce quietly laughed as he typed it in, wondering what significance it had to the curly-haired man.

The room they entered had eight cells in it, and Bruce led him to the third one. “Like I said,” Bruce muttered.

“Ford. Ford!” Stan rattled the bars, but Ford didn't stir from where he was laying on a cot. Stan turned on Bruce angrily.

“What did you to do him?” He snarled, and Bruce backed up.

“I'm just the doctor. He was out cold when I saw him.” Bruce defended warily, and that was when the door opened.

Three agents burst in, each aiming their guns at Stan.

“Stanley Pines, you're under arrest for breaking and entering. Step away from Doctor Banner and put your hands up!” the one at the front barked right before Stan threw his knife at her. It embedded in her shoulder, and she dropped her gun with a surprised shout.

“You wanna come with me, Banner?” Stan asked, grabbing the doctor by the back of his shirt and using him as a shield. The two remaining agents shared bewildered looks as if unsure what to do. 

“Not particularly, but something tells me I don't have much of a choice,” Bruce said dryly, watching the two other agents back off.

“Doctor Banner, please remain calm! Reinforcements are on the way!” one of them yelled without moving, and Stan snorted, still dragging Bruce along.

“You know, you're pretty calm for a guy who's in a potential hostage situation,” Stan noted, peeking down a hallway before running down it, half expecting to be caught any moment.

“I kind of have to be,” Bruce replied,

“Oo, cryptic? Will I ever figure out what that means?”

“I hope you don't have to. We’re going the wrong way for exits, by the way.”

“I- wait, what? Fuck!” Stan skidded to a stop in the middle of the hallway. "So if we took..a left, er..up the corridor..."

“Old man with unfashionable hair, let Banner go.” Stan looked up at a robotic voice. A large red and gold robot thing stood at the end of the hallway, and Stanley couldn’t help thinking, _that would make a wonderful attraction in the Mystery Shack. The Titanbot. I should ask McGucket to make me one._

“Old man? Who’re you calling old, tin man? And my mullet looks fabulous!”

“Tin man? Hey, Bruce that must make you the cowardly lion,” Bruce just rolled his eyes. 

"Tony-" The smaller man began, but the robot, Tony, interrupted him.

“Really though. Sorry, not sorry. Don’t touch my bro again,” Tin Man said, and Stan felt a sharp prick in his shoulder. He released Bruce, stumbling back a little as his shoulder burned a bit, and desperately grabbed at his shoulder. He came back, a dart in between his fingers. _They need both of us, or would prefer for both of us to be alive_ , Stan realized as he sluggishly pulled out the dart, and attempted to stand. His legs collapsed beneath him and he thought, _and I just made it easier for them._

“Aw, fuck,” Stan mumbled, falling forwards into an ungainly heap on the ground. Darkness edged at his vision, and he felt himself get dragged backwards. He uselessly clawed at the ground.

“Cowardly lion, really Tony?”

Was the last thing Stan heard before he blacked out.

 

* * *

Stan woke up with a loud groan, feeling extremely hungover. “Yo, Ford what the hell happened last night? How many bars did we hit?” he asked, turning over to grab his glasses from his bedside table. Rather, he fell onto the floor, which woke him up completely. He got up, sitting back on his bed as his head began to pound.

“Last night? We hit absolutely none bars. Unless you count prison bars. I don’t know..you broke into what I guess, would be some sort of government base in an attempt to rescue me. Now we’re both caught,” Ford spat, back turned from his brother as he sat on his own bed.

.“...Wow. Not even a thank you for trying to save your sorry ass?” Stan asked, half bitter for being caught and half bitter for his brother being such an ass.

Ford sighed deeply, “I apologize, Stanley. I’m just a bit frustrated. Why would you come? I told you I’d be fine.”

“Ford, I’ll always come if you need me. I waited thirty plus years. Do you think I’m just going to let some government jerks get between us?”

There was a strained silence before Ford finally answered, “No.” Stan grinned, and barked, “Why don’t you come give your brother a hug then? I don’t--can’t really get up. I’m pretty sure I’m hungover.” He was testing Ford.

Ford began making a sound of protest, but quickly choked it down. “Stanley, there are video cameras in here.”

“So?”

“And they could use it against us,” Ford finished lamely, and there was another silence.

“What did they do to you?” Stan asked angrily. Ford winced slightly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stanley,” Ford said back quietly, and Stan scoffed.

“You haven’t turned to see me once. Either they beat you up really badly and you don’t want me to see or I’ve gotten even uglier over the last night.”

Ford snorted, but muttered, “Stan, I don’t want you picking fights with them. Don’t fight with them. You’ll lose.” He turned around, facing Stan and Stan almost lost his words.

“It-s not that bad.” he coughed out, feeling the rage stir in his gut. His nails dug into his palm as he struggled to keep his rage in check. Ford’s face was covered in bruises and tiny cuts, one eye so swollen he could barely open it.

“Heh, don’t lie to me Stanley. I know it’s bad. Not the worst either of us have had, though.” Ford sighed, turning back around. “They drugged me on the way to this place. It made me feel completely intoxicated. My interrogator got pretty aggressive when I wouldn’t answer his questions. He began resorting to more violent measures to get answers, but I was apparently not drugged enough for my mind to panic at the sight of Bill. I started having flashbacks of when..” Ford cut off, opening and then closing his mouth a few times, “...he just got angrier when I started screaming until I lost consciousness. They let me out, forced some medicine down my throat, and threw me in here. Not even five hours later, you get thrown in here. Great job on that, by the way.”

“What do they want?” Stan asked, attempting to force down his anger with another topic.  _Typical ungrateful Ford._

"They're interested about the summer earthquake,” Ford replied easily enough, but his eyes said, " _D_ _on't tell them shit."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to you if you get the password joke.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan's interrogation, Director Fury wants to talk, and Ford is drugged (again).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shrug* I was at camp. I also started a new story that's not crack. So I probably won't be updating this one as much.

* * *

“Do you prefer Stanley or Stan?”

Stan looked up with a snort, prepared to say a snarky comment, but felt his voice die in his throat. His interrogator was a red-head. She wore a leather cat-suit, and damn…

“Either one for you, babe.” Stan said with a wink.

“So, tell me about yourself, Stan.” The red-head said, sitting down in the seat across from Stan’s.

“Well, I was born in Jersey. My mom was a pathological liar and my dad was a dick. I got kicked out of my house before I finished high school and went to make a fortune. I retired last year after the earthquake in Gravity Falls and went sailing with my brother.” Stan said confidently, proud of himself for remembering the earthquake part.

“Really? My records here say...you’ve been dead.” The red-head said and gave Stan a disappointed look.

“Uh..misprint.” Stan said easily.

“So..tell me about the earthquake.” She asked, and Stan shrugged as best as he could with his hands cuffed behind him.

“Well, it was big and did some damage.” He replied, but felt himself blanch as the lady put some pictures on the table.

“What are these?” She asked, and Stan felt a drop of sweat fall onto the table.

“God, it’s hot in here, isn’t it?” He chuckled, and pretended to study the pictures. _Sweet Moses, was that a picture of Ford...Mabel’s bubble..._

He showed no outward emotion other than confusion, but inside he was fuming. _I’d kill that damn triangle if he wasn’t already dead._ “I don’t know what these are. Photocropped or shipped or whatever? Probably by those crazy people on the interwebs.”

“Interesting.” A perfect, arched eyebrow. “Your brother took a shining to this one in particular.” She held up a picture of Bill in all his triangular glory, and Stan gritted his teeth.

“You drugged him. He was hallucinating. He’s a paranormal investigator, and sometimes he’s pretty stupid. He thinks he sees thinks when he doesn’t. He’s been pretty paranoid ever since-” Stan caught himself just in time, but realized that if he didn’t finish the sentence it would look suspicious.

“Ever since, he..uh..was in the war. Vietnam. ” Stan finished lamely. “He- uh..doesn’t like me telling people. He was--er..a POW.”

“And you didn’t go to war?” She asked, and Stan nodded.

“That’s why I pretended to be dead.” He said, and realized his slip-up a moment too late.

“I thought you said that was a misprint?”

“Oh, did I? Bad memory.” Stan was full out sweating now, drops running down his face. “Very hot in here.”

“Is it? It’s 68 degrees.” The red-haired lady smirked, and Stan sighed.

“Whatever. You know how it is with old people. Hot flashes and what not.” Stan muttered, looking at the picture of Bill again. _Asshole. This damn thing is all your fault you fucking space nacho._

A buzzer sounded, and Stan looked up, relieved. “Well, that’s all the time we have for today.” The lady said, getting up, and Stan was sent back to his and Ford’s cell.

Ford was doing pushups, but stopped once Stan was shoved in, glaring at the guard. “How was it?” He asked, getting up and sitting on his cot.

“Well..I told them that you’re paranoid because you were a POW of Vietnam.” Stanley said, and Ford stared at him.

“What in Heaven’s name, Stanley? Why would you say that?” He exclaimed, and Stan sighed.

“There was a hot lady. She caught me off guard, you know? I was expecting one of those gross, masculine grunts. And technically, you have fought in a war. You were a prisoner of war.”

“Shut up, Stanley.” Ford hissed, giving Stan a venomous glare.

“I may have also told them that you were paranoid and a bit crazy.” Stan continued, ignoring his brother.

“Stanley!”

“I mean, you were a bit paranoid...still kinda are. I noticed that you patrolled the shack everyday. Not as subtle as you think, Poindexter.”

Ford let out a long sigh and began tuning out his brother.

* * *

“I’ll have them clear you of all and any charges you’ve committed. That includes your long list from various fake, illegal IDs, fraud, theft...any of the other multiple crimes on your record. Assault...impersonation, faking your own death. Reckless driving, forgery, breaking and entering. We’ve barely even really gotten into it.”

“Look here, Mr. Pirate,” Stan said, ignoring the annoyed look from the other man, “I already explained that the death thing was just a misprint.”

“And the rest of it? This could very well land you in a jail cell for a long, long, time, Mr. Pines.”

“So what, you want me to tell you what happened? It was just an earthquake.” Stan grinned, and Fury gave him a death glare.

“And let’s not forget your brother. Illegal possession of a firearm, resisting arrest, assault, aiding a criminal.”

Stan snorted. “I can’t speak for my brother, but I’m pretty sure he’d tell you to fuck off. Except he’d probably say it nerdily. Is there even a way to say fuck off nerdily?”

“Consider our offer, Stanley. It’s a very nice deal compared to the years you could spend rotting in a jail cell.” Fury said, and got up, turning with a dramatic coat swish.

“Jeez, that guy’s more dramatic than Ford is, am I right?” The annoying agent grunts didn’t respond, rather taking Stan back to the cell.

Ford was sprawled out in the middle of the floor, looking a bit groggy as he looked around blearily. Both of his wrists were bandaged and Stan sighed. “You’re drugged again. What did you do?”

Ford giggled, eyes crossing. “I brooooke the handcuffs and beat ‘im up. I alsoooo bit the guaard. ‘N scraaatched an’ther guaaard ooooon tha faceee.” He drawled, and Stan cringed. It was always startling to hear his usually eloquent brother speaking so slurred.

“It’s funny that you always fight with the guards when you always tell me not to make them mad.” Stan huffed, helping his twin to his feet. “You have to stop doing this, Ford.”

“Beeeetter meeee th’n youu”

Stan shook his head. “You’re not supposed to be self-sacrificing, Sixer. It’s out of character.”

“Soooorry.”

“You’re not supposed to apologize either.”

“Oh.” With that, Stan dumped his brother in his cot and got into his own cot.

“Night Ford.” Stan said, turning towards the wall.

Ford just grunted in response.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford's escape attempt. (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter, because I wrote it on my phone. I blame all typos on my phone.
> 
> (Thanks for all the kudos and comments! I'm aiming for 100, but unlikely lol.)

~~~~Stan woke up with a start in the middle of the night, immediately sitting up. It was completely dark except for the dim light outside their cell and silent except for the sounds of Ford muttering in his sleep. Stan lay back down and decided to get more sleep.

“No. Don't touch me,” Ford mumbled, turning over in his bed.

Stan gave his brother a curious look. He was probably dreaming about girls. Suddenly, Ford began pulling frantically at the collar of his turtleneck.

“No,” he moaned in pain. “No more volts, please, Bill, I beg you.”

“Ford?”

Ford’s breath hitched and he stiffened, stilling. Stan waited for something else to happen, apprehensive. When nothing else happened, Stan relaxed, closing his eyes.

“NO! DON’T TOUCH THEM!” Ford roared, and Stan jolted. Ford was entangled in his blanket, trying to get loose.

“Ford!” Stan got out of bed, crossing the room in a few steps.

“No, no! Mabel!” Ford screamed, and Stan carefully unwrapped his brother’s limbs from the blanket.

“Wake up, Ford!” Stan touched his brother’s arm, and Ford’s eyes snapped open. His brother lashed out, swinging at him wildly, and Stan backed up.

“You're okay, Stanford. We’re not with Bill anymore,” Stan said quietly, the sound of Ford’s heavy panting filling the room.

Ford just let out a quiet groan and held his face in his hands. “But he...Mabel. We- he killed her.”

“It’s okay, Sixer. She’s fine, remember?”

In retrospect, Stan realized he probably shouldn’t have said “Sixer.”

Ford flung himself at Stan, eyes blazing. “You demon! Get out of my brother!” he yelled, and Stan just dodged a punch to the jaw.

“Woah, woah, Ford! It's me,” Stan yelled, grabbing his brother’s arm. “Just calm down a bit.”

Ford snarled, tugging out of Stan’s grip and scurrying to the other corner of the room. Stan sighed. Sometimes this happened to his twin. He would go nonverbal, snarling and growling instead, acting like a wild animal.

“Ford…” Stan said quietly, crouching lower to the ground to make himself less threatening. A growl rumbled in Ford’s throat as Stan slowly approached.

“I have an idea,” Ford mumbled quietly, and Stan almost did a double take. Ford smirked. “You’re not the only actor in the family, Stanley. Keep moving. Get close enough for me to punch you.”

Stan continued edging forward, butterflies in his stomach. What was Ford’s play here?

“Now let’s have a fight,” Ford said, and Stan barely registered what his brother said until Ford was leaping at him, a roar erupting from his throat. Stan scrambled backward, landing flat on his butt as Ford snarled at him.

“Sweet Moses!” Stan yelled as Ford lunged for his throat, and Stan threw him off. It was like Ford was rabid or something as he tried to come back and bite Stan. Stan held his brother off with a not-so-gentle push.

“Hey, you two! Stop it!” A guard yelled, having apparently coming in at some point of Stan and Ford’s “fight.”

“I can’t stop him! He’s rabid, or something, probably you guys’ fault!” Stan shouted back, keeping Ford away from himself with his foot. Ford grabbed his pants leg, growling and shaking like a dog. Stan struggled to keep the laughter down.

The guard grunted in annoyance and opened the cell door, one hand on his gun, the other on his walkie-talkie. “Come in, Bryan speaking. Pines is having another reacti-”

Bryan crumpled to the floor as Stan slammed two fingers into his throat.

“Ow..” The man wheezed, tears in his eyes as he clutched his throat.

 “Come on Ford. I must say, nice performance, by the way.” Stan ordered, and Ford got off the ground and brushed himself off.

“Shut up, Stanley. I’d like to see you do better.” Ford snapped, but it wasn't very serious. They excited their cell and made a beeline for the door.

“For Abraham’s sake,” Ford muttered, eying the keypad.

“Uh...I think I got this.” Stan said, desperately willing himself to remember the code. _T5...uh..1st4eb3st_. Stan punched the combination into the keypad, and for a moment, everything was silent.

Then, red, blaring alarms.

“Well, fuck,” Stan muttered.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Escape (Part II)  
> Except it goes horribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter begins with a flashforward and I have copious amounts of OCs scattered throughout and please bear with me. I don't know any actual SHIELD agents.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry it took so long. Thanks for over 100 kudos and thanks so much for your patience. 
> 
> Without further ado- the chapter that no one was waiting for.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t fire all three of your asses right now,” Fury growled, eye pinning the three men to the wall. When none of them responded, Fury sighed and prompted, “Agent Michaels? Agent Wulf? Trainee Roth?”

Wulf gave both Michaels and Roth a dirty look as they both shoved him forwards. “Uh, well...Dr. Pines escaped?” he stammered, eyes everywhere except for Fury.

“Care to elaborate?” Fury asked, giving the three his driest, most unimpressed look that was usually only reserved for Stark when he said something especially stupid.

“Erm, yes sir. Sorry, sir. Dr. Pines escaped, but we managed to contain his brother. Jah- er...trainee Roth attempted to stop him, but was threatened at gunpoint before Dr. Pines shot me in the shoulder. Dr. Pines then threatened to shoot me in the head, which was when Michaels told him the password to escape the cell. I then shot Dr. Pines, in the leg, however, he then...um, escaped with his entire weapon arsenal that was previously seized from him after tasering the guards. He was injured-- the shot to the leg I mentioned and Agent Sewati shot him as well in the shoulder, I believe. I, um, do believe that we could track him…” Wulf trailed off, wincing under Fury’s glare.

“Do you understand why I’m pissed?”

Michaels took the opportunity to butt in, saying, “Of course, sir. It’s because Wulf and his trainee screwed up yet another mission and let Dr. Pines escape. Due to this we cannot do double interrogation or use the Pines' against each other.” Michaels pushed Wulf aside, giving him a nasty sneer before turning back towards Fury. “Director, you should put me in change or interrogation again. I admit, last time I messed up, but please, give me another chance.”

“No.”

“No?! Sir…”

“I’m putting the Carpenters in charge of this one,” Fury finished.

“Lord God,” Wulf whispered, taking a full step back and Roth paled a shade.

“What?! Those sociopaths?” Michaels hissed, face bright red.

“Yes, those sociopaths. The only way you’re getting back into that interrogation room is if the three of them can’t crack Pines, and that’s never happened before. Unless you’re doubting my decisions...”

“I- sorry director. O-of course not.” Michaels stammered out an apology, face now bright red for a different reason.

* * *

_They’re trapped. Cornered like two mice by a cat- or multiple cats in their case_ , Stan thinks as three men with guns file into their hallway. The agents, all dark-haired men (except for the tiny one--he looked like he was 19 and his hair was almost blond), were already going down the underestimation road. None of them had their hands on their firearms at all.

Stan had no idea what exactly what happened, but one moment Ford stiffened, and the next he was launching himself at the Agent that Stan had knocked out earlier to get into the building. _Well, okay,_ Stan thought, taking advantage of the momentary surprise and punching the closest guy (the tiny one. Stan was going to call him Rookie,) in the nose, sending him stumbling back, clutching his nose.

“Ow, shit, Wulf, do something!” The agent from earlier-- J _ames Michaels_ , Stan thought, suddenly remembering his name-- screeched, struggling with Ford. Unfortunately for him, it was too late. Ford now had a gun and the safety was off.

“Everyone shut up and freeze,” Ford commanded and Stan internally cheered as the three agents froze, Rookie still clutching his bleeding nose.

“I’ll take this, my friend.” Stan hummed, taking Rookie’s gun. The young man gave him a look but didn’t move, other than a tiny drop of sweat falling onto his shirt.

“Password. Now. And tell it correctly or someone will end up in the ICU,” Ford spat, gun aimed directly at Michaels.

Silence.

“Hey, Rookie, what’s the code?” Stan asked, gesturing to the obviously nervous dirty blond he had just disarmed. The kid was quivering now, eyes darting around and eyes wide.

“Roth, no!” The only unnamed agent ground out, and in a flash, Ford had shot him. The agent fell to the ground with a short, strangled scream, clutching at his shoulder.

“Tell us. Or we could always just let him bleed out here,” Ford said coldly, and Rookie broke down into legitimate tears.

“Nooopleasedon’t!Please don’t shoot him--he’s the only family I have left-please!” Rookie sobbed pleadingly, but Ford wasn’t listening. Eyes burning with rage, Ford steadily aimed point blank at the agent, and Stan realized Ford was deep in survival mode. Shit.

“Ford, no!” Stan snapped, partially keeping an eye on Michaels, while trying to talk down his twin. “Don’t shoot him.”

“Password.”

“The password is _BB15B4E_ ,” Michaels spat, looking at Rookie with a look of mild hatred, but Stan didn’t know why he was angry-- he wasn’t a sobbing wreck, nor was he bleeding on the ground from a gunshot.

“I don’t remember it being anything like that,” Stan muttered, and Michaels glared at him. “They changed it a few days ago.”

“If it’s wrong…” Ford didn’t finish his threat, punching in the password, making a quiet, surprised noise when it opened.

“Thanks, Michaels,” Stan grunted, and suddenly a gunshot exploded right near his ear.

“Fuck, I missed!” the bleeding agent snarled, and even as Stan’s ear was ringing, he was pushing Ford out the door, snapping, “Go!”

As the two tore down the hallway, Stan noticed one of two things.

One: _He had no idea where he was going._  
Two: _There was a red trail following them._

“Ford, are you bleeding?” Stan asked his brother, who shook his head rapidly.

“No! Do you know where you’re leading us?”

“I- no,” Stan paused, “But you are bleeding, filthy liar. Stop trying to distract me.”

“Look, Stan,” Ford sighed, pausing in his tracks, “It’s better if we split up. We don’t have time to stop and patch the wound, and I’m leading them on a trail straight to us.”

“Ford…”

“Stan, you’ve already sacrificed yourself for me twice. Don’t do it again,” With that, Ford took off down a different hall.

Ironically enough, it was Ford who ended up escaping.

* * *

 

“Sup? I’m Daniel and this is my brother, David.”

Stan rolled his eyes, looking at his new two interrogators. David was obviously older by at least four years. He had light brown hair, brown eyes, and a long scar running down the left side of his face. Daniel had brown hair and looked nowhere near as tough as his brother with his sparkling eyes and freckles. Based off who was more muscular, it seemed David would be “getting answers.”

“Sorry, I’m late!” A blond, baby-faced young male (based on his height, Stan would say he was 17 or so, but he was probably older) ran into the room holding a briefcase. Daniel and David both gave each other a look.

“Let me guess, Damien?” Stan asked dryly, and baby-face chuckled.

“Christian, sir. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Pines,” Christian said with an apologetic smile.

“Sit!” David snapped. Immediately, Christian sat across from Stan, placing the briefcase on the table.

“What’s in there?” Daniel asked Christian, who hesitated before being slapped over the head by David. Stan’s eyebrows rose as Christian rubbed the back of his head with a wince of pain.

“Well, Michaels was looking to make a deal. He asked me to bring it to you...” Christian trailed off as David opened the briefcase and ripped up the papers inside.

“You can tell Michaels to suck it when we’re finished, kid. Now go stand in your corner and watch and learn.” Daniel instructed, and Stan felt a tiny bit bad for Christian as he slunk over to his corner sulkily.

“I suppose we could do this two ways, Mr. Pines. I love cliches, so I’ll say it. We can either do this is the easy way or the hard way.” Daniel continued grin on his face as he circled the table like a shark, completely oblivious to Christian and David’s simultaneous eye rolls.

He stopped behind Stan’s chair, reaching down and gripping his mullet tightly. Stan winced, feeling strands yank free as Daniel tugged his hair before continuing his path.

“Just know, regardless of your decision, we will find your brother and how badly it goes for him in the future is dictated by your behaviour here.”

“You’re lying to yourself if you think I’ll tell you jack. And you’re insane if you think you’ll find Ford.” Stan grunted, eyeing the three. David snorted, shrugging.

“Have it your way, old man.”

And if that wasn't an ominous sentence, Stan had no idea what was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another password pun! Kudos to you if get it.
> 
> I bet you guys didn't expect that at all. 
> 
> But I asked my friend if I should let them both escape, or one escape, and if so should it be the one who "sacrifices everything for his family" or the "arrogant nerd who I've been torturing the whole story." She replied it should be the sacrificing one and then I should kill him, but I will not listen to the second part of her advice. 
> 
> Don't worry. Stan survives this one.
> 
> (It still counts if he barely survives.)


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan contemplates, and Ford hides out.
> 
> Then an appearance from the resident demigod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, it's been awhile. Not really a good chapter, but that's okay. No one reads this crap anyway. 
> 
> TW: Waterboarding, mild torture, flashbacks of drowning

“Last chance. Talk,” Daniel muttered, drumming his fingers on the table. Stan spat out blood, licking his split lip, pain shooting through his sides with every breath he took. He was pretty sure he had at least one broken rib. He knew for a fact three fingers were broken and he was halfway to a concussion.

“You’re funny. No.”

David’s eyebrows rose, Daniel scowled, and Christian paled. “Rethink? Please?” the blond quickly asked, flinching as Daniel turned to him. Stan would feel bad for him if he hadn’t been involved in this whole thing.

Every time David and Daniel took a break, stopped to see how “broken” Stan was, they’d take out any remaining frustration out on Christian. It was shameful to see how quickly they turned on their brother(?), Stan thought, blankly watching the two gang up on the younger. Christian was crying for mercy (as he had every time they’d done this to him), David was grinning as he kicked Christian’s ribs, and Daniel was grinning, eyes alight with glee.

Stan? He felt empty.

_Where was Ford? That’s right- Stan had ruined his chances at that fancy university. Dad kicked me out. Now he was locked in a cell in a New York prison with three other guys for theft. What did I steal anyway? Food? Supplies? A flash of red caught Stan’s eyes and he grimaced. The red-haired guard. He’d probably deal with the inmates fighting, but they’d likely all get punished. Maybe solitary confinement again. He fucking hated solitary confinement. All that time to think about my poor life decisions._

He blinked, feeling a sudden pain in his cheek. Was someone slapping him? _For what?_ Stan turned to face the person and as an unfamiliar face registered to his brain, he was thrown straight out of his flashback.

“Did you guys actually break him? He’s been unresponsive for like three minutes,” Christian murmured, eyeing Stan with concern.

“Shut up, or I’ll break you, kid. Look, he’s fine.” David grunted, but all three stiffened as the door opened.

“Fury wants you guys to know that he’s not impressed with your two hours. Also, he’s assigning me to the case. Figures, right? You’re barely stable enough for each other, how’d you expect to be stable enough to interrogate?” Michaels asked, tone dripping with hatred as he gave all three brothers condescending looks.

“And he chose you? I thought he’d go for someone who, well, how do I say this-- has brain cells.” Daniel spat, and his brothers backed him up, forming a sort of triangle thing, Stan had to admit that this was the most interesting thing he had seen the whole time while being “arrested.”

“Build a bridge, Carpenters,” Michaels sneered, “Fury specifically said that if you failed, I would be allowed to take over, so I’m taking over for this one until further notice. Also, the director would like to see you. Pretty sure you’re getting fired Sham, Ham, and Japheth.”

“Make fun of our names again you Canadian fuck and I’ll punch you so hard that my fist will come out of your maple-leaf-loving ass, eh?” Christian snarled, startling Michaels, who stood stunned by Christian’s ferocity. All three brothers gave him death glares, each individually shoving him as they walked out of the interrogation room, David actually flicking him in the ear as he went.

Michaels growled, “Assholes,” and sat down across from Stan, who had been watching the confrontation with tired, weary eyes, and an amazing ability to hold in the laughter that had threatened to burst out several times during the match.

“So…” Michaels said, taking a deep breath and trying to compose himself and sitting down across from Stan. “You’re the retard’s brother. Are you as dumb as him or dumber?” Michaels asked, and Stan immediately bristled.

“Don’t speak about my brother like that! He’s smarter than anybody in this whole fucking building; don’t you dare call him a retard!”

“So I’ll take it you’re dumber then. Just know that if you don’t cooperate, your brother will be in your grasp in a few hours. I’m sure he’ll thank you for the gunshot wounds and I’m sure he’ll thank you, even more, when he has to sit through hours of interrogation.”

“Wounds?” _Like multiple?_

“Oh, you didn’t hear? He was shot about....what, three times? It’ll be interesting if he manages to survive on the streets, for sure. We have agents around your boat, he can’t go there. We have agents on the streets, we have them in the hotels, the back alleys, and even the fucking dumpster if that’s where your brother wishes to hide. If he doesn’t bleed out first, we’ll find him in whatever damp hole he’s crying in right now.” Michaels smirked, leaning back in his chair.

If Stan wasn’t clamped in this chair by metal cuffs on his wrists, he would have strangled Michaels by now. He glared hotly at the man instead, gritting his teeth together.

“I’ll give you the chance to answer some questions now and maybe save your brother some pain in the near future.” Michaels continued at Stan’s silence.

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?” Stan growled.

“You know...Stark thinks he’s the only one who can hack SHIELD video cameras. I have friends to help me with that. You see, what I’m going to do-- it’s currently looped right now. It looks like I’m sitting here, and you’re sitting here, and Fury has no idea what I’m about to do. All he’ll know is that I’ll get answers and those fucking psychopath Carpenters didn’t.”

“And what are you about to do?” Stan asked, giving the dark-haired man a skeptical look. “My friends sneaked an access card,” was all Michaels said before whistling. As three burly men walked in, awaiting Michaels’s orders, Stan couldn’t help but notice a small coil of fear settling in his stomach.

“Uncuff him. Hands behind his back, then take him down to his cell. You know the drill, and be quiet about it.”

“Hey, hey! What the hell’re you doing?” Stan snapped as they basically manhandled out of the chair, paying no attention to his broken ribs or fingers. “Hands off the goods!”

“Wehh, hands off the goods,” One of the men mocked in an oddly high voice that honestly didn’t fit a man of his size. “Just shut up already.” He continued, easily grappling Stan’s wrists behind his back and handcuffing him.

Michaels watched idly as his “friends” deal with a struggling Stan, pulling him out of the room, despite his protests.

“We don’t have to do this,” Stan said, voice half pleading as they forced him down.

“You’re so right. All you have to do is tell us what you and your retarded brother did in Oregon. Those earthquakes weren’t earthquakes at all and you know it.” Michaels muttered the last part, suddenly popping up again, one of his “friends” carrying a large tub of water with him. It looked like he was struggling, but Michaels didn’t offer to help him, so he struggled in silence. Stan almost wanted to laugh; the man looked constipated as he struggled with the heavy metal tub before basically dropping it on the ground.

Stan knew exactly what they were going to do now, and he already knew how much he was going to hate it.

“What happened in Oregon?” Michaels asked, and Stan shook his head. “An earthquake.”

“Dunk him.”

Stan struggled as they grabbed his hair and shoulders, pushing his face down into the tub, holding him there, despite his jerking. He came up panting, just when he thought his lungs couldn’t take anymore.

_He was in the trunk of a car-_

“What happened in Oregon?”

“Fuck you.”

“Dunk him,” Michaels instructed again, and Stan inhaled a tiny gasp of air before they forced him back under. He tried to pull away, but their grip was firm, like bricks. He was panting again, black starting to appear at the edge of his vision. His lungs weren’t made for this anymore.

_-bricks in the car trunk. His wrists and ankles were tied-_

“What happened in Oregon?” Stan refused to answer this time, just spitting at Michaels. Michaels growled, bristling. He didn’t even give a warning before they dunked him.

_-and there was no way he was going to escape this one alive-_

“Dunk him. Again.”

“Wait- pl-” Stan begged, but they forced him down again, and he choked on water, coughing and spluttering and

_-drowning_

“Again. Again, again! Unless the first thing he starts with is ‘I surrender,’ then I don’t even want to hear a word out of him!”

And they dunked him again, and again, and again until he just stopped fighting and he was sure that he couldn’t see anything except wet and cold.

“Stop,” Micheals instructed, holding up a palm, and Stan heaved, throwing up water and probably half of his intestines. “Ready to talk yet, Pines?”

“Yeah...go to hell.”

Micheals turned bright red in the face, screaming, “Dunk that piece of shit!”

* * *

It had been a long day, Stan figured as he laid in his cell, wet and miserable. They hadn’t cared about his broken bones, leading to Stan having to reset his own fingers, and they hadn’t given him a change of clothes all day.

They had to revive him once after one of the men took it too far. His throat was still raw from coughing up so much water, and he was truly starting to wonder just how much this secret was worth. Sure, it would ruin Gravity Falls and all the tourists, but no- Ford would be so upset. They would take his lab, for sure, and all his remaining research. They’d probably begin to hunt down supernatural creatures for their own benefits and then Ford would never forgive him.

“Tomorrow is a new day, Stan.” He reminded himself, dozing off and trying to ignore the pain in his ribs.

* * *

He was bleeding a lot, Ford thought, sitting behind a cardboard box in an alleyway. He knew he had been hit in the leg and the shoulder, he just hadn’t anticipated how much it would hurt. It had been awhile since he had been shot with a regular bullet from a regular gun.

He regretted snapping in front of Stanley like that. He didn’t know what had happened. “Retard,” the black haired agent had snapped, and it flashed in front of his eyes, and he attacked. He couldn’t remember much, except for the overbearing need to protect Stanley and to survive. To fight. To escape.

Now it was pouring rain and he was hiding in an alleyway, jumping every time a person passed and huddling under his raincoat. His weapons didn’t do him much use for the cold, but they made him feel a lot better to have.

A clap of thunder made him jump. The storm was steadily getting worse, and as people began running for cover, he wished he was one of them. Of course, these weren’t the worst conditions he had endured, but they were still rather unpleasant.

“Who are we looking for, Point Break? And can you do something about the weather, please? If it rains any more, it’ll flood.” Ford burrowed deeper behind the box, upon hearing the familiar voice. One of his captors. The one with the goatee. What had been his name? It started with an S. Why had they just stopped in front of the alley he was hiding in?

“Flood? This is barely a drizzle, Man of Iron.” Ford blinked. He recognized that voice too. It wasn’t one of them, he would have remembered, but it was definitely familiar, nagging in the back of his mind. “And the mortal that we are looking for goes by the name of Stanford Pines.”

“Stanford Pines? Seriously? He just escaped SHIELD holding a few hours ago.”

“Holding? For what? He and his brother are heroes in the multiverse.” Heroes? Stanley was the hero, not him. He left Stanley. Twice. And now instead of doing anything, he was hiding out in an alleyway like a coward instead of helping his brother.

“Something went down in Oregon.”

“A dream demon. William Cipher, or Bill, escaped from the Nightmare Realm. Of course, it wasn’t a large enough threat for Odin to concern himself with it, but if Bill had escaped from Gravity Falls, Oregon, it would have catastrophic consequences, likely the end of the world.”

“Wait, what? Dream demon? How did we not know about this? Or rather, how were the Avengers not notified?” Goatee asked, and Ford had no idea what the Avengers were, but it sounded serious.

“Bill managed to be contained in Gravity Falls and the Pines twins defeated him, though how I do not know. He is a hero among Midgard, although only the citizens of Gravity Falls know of the incident.”

“Wow. That’s amazing and all, but why are we standing in the rain in an alleyway.”

“I asked Heimdall. He says Stanford Pines is here.”

Gah, the voice was so familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, which was when two people turned into the alleyway. The sound of wet gravel crunched underfoot, and with every closer step, Ford’s hair bristled. The smell of ozone traveled with the footsteps, and it--his memory- was almost there. So close he could put all six of his fingers on it.

“Here? Here, like here? In this alleyway? I don’t see anything, Point Break.”

“Aye.”

He peeped up a bit from behind the soggy box. Tall, towering, muscular long blond hair. It then hit Ford in the head like a sledgehammer. “Thor?” He asked aloud.

“Stanford?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done. Just about two more chapters. Unfortunately, I've gon into The Office blackhole, so this is going to take awhile.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford, Thor, and Tony get to know each other a bit better.
> 
> Stanley contemplates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP* NOT PROOFREAD! *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP*
> 
> I’m sick, guys. I don’t know if I’ll be able to update everything this month. I’ve got like, what, three more stories to update? Lord God, help me.
> 
> Honestly, I don’t know why I’m still writing this, minus your motivations, there’s no reason why I should still be writing this. Yet, I have one more chapter and a epilogue written to nicely tie everything up.
> 
> Yup. 
> 
> Anyway, I apologize in advance for all and any OOC characters.

“What’re you doing here?” Ford asked, not moving from his secure position behind the box.

He couldn’t help his suspicion. He was wounded for one, he could be taken down easily if they tried to attack him, and it was much easier to shoot a gun from a distance.

Last time he had seen Thor, he had been arrogant and fairly gullible. It was possible Goatee, whatever his name was, had tricked him into working for him and the guy with the eyepatch. Furry or Fury or something.

“I came searching for you,” Thor’s answer surprised Ford, but he kept his mouth shut as the demigod continued, “Odin said something about a sudden imbalance or sorts in the multiverse. If I recall, you’re an expert. Father said something about Axolotl being called upon, and I knew something gravely serious must have had happened.”

“Axolotl?” Goatee asked and Thor explained, “Axolotl is only invoked in dire situations.”

“Of course. That makes perfect sense. Thank you for explaining that.” The sarcasm was heavy in Goatee’s voice, but Thor either didn’t pick it up or didn’t care, nodding and turning back to Ford.

Ford blinked heavily, not sure how to process that news. He should have known better than to think that Bill would be gone for good.

“So, I returned to Midgard to see what may have happened. The first place that I went was your home in Gravity Falls. I wasn’t sure if you had returned from your travels or not, but I hoped. When I asked for you, the citizens told me that you had left with your brother, Stanley. It is good that you two have reunited.” Thor’s eyes shone, a mixture of mild regret, sadness, and joy for Stanford.

“No wonder you and Thor get along so well. You both have brother issues,” Goatee interjected, and Ford glanced for Thor for an answer, but Thor ignored his questioning glance altogether and Goatee’s remark.

It didn’t seem to bother the shorter man as he kept talking, “Hey, that reminds me. Where did you return from? A land where sideburns are acceptable?”

“Stanford Pines has traveled various dimensions, friend Stark. He is and his brother Stanley are heroes among the multiverse for defeating the dream demon, Bill Cipher.”

“Dream demon...You weren’t joking earlier, were you? You know what, I don’t even want to know. But, I do want to know how you traveled dimensions,” Goatee, no, Stark raised an incredulous eyebrow and Ford stared back stonily.

“I was pushed into a portal thirty or so years ago,” he responded coldly. Stark seemed to freeze for a second, flinching so fast it was nearly invisible. He opened his mouth to respond, but Thor spoke over whatever comment he was going to make next.

“Speaking of your brother, where is he? Surely heroes like you have not been downgraded to living in the dumpsters of Midgard?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Stanford and Stanley are apparently criminals. Fury had them arrested. Stanley’s still back at base, probably in a cell. Maybe an interrogation. Whatever those weirdo SHIELD agents do.”

“What?! I thought you to be jesting earlier!” Thor sounded outraged.

“Honestly, Hawkguy, Capsicle, and I split up to go find Stanford, here. Just following orders. Technically I’m supposed to bring him in.”

It did not go unnoticed by Ford that Thor shifted slightly, moving so that his back was to Stanford.

“I refuse to let you do that. If heroes are locked up on Midgard, then I don’t believe that I can allow that to continue. I will break-”

“Calm down, Point Break. When was the last time you knew me to follow orders? I have nothing against Sixer-”

“Don’t call me that!” Ford snarled, just barely stopping a lunge forward, and Stark just shrugged, hiding his ruffled look with the nonchalant gesture. Ford regretted it as his shoulder began throbbing again, reminding him exactly how much it hurt to be shot. Again.

“Fair enough. I have nothing against Stanford. I have almost nothing against Stanley other than the fact he threatened my science bro.”

“I apologize on behalf of Stanley,” Ford automatically said. He had been having to do a lot of that when they were docking at different places.

“Great. Anyway, I’m getting a bit tired of Fury. If he had told me that we were locking up one of the smartest scientists, I would have never accepted. Well, I didn’t accept, really. It was more like Fury told me what to do and then Capsicle dragged my ass with him. I say we have a huge jailbreak and then you,” he stopped his ramble to point at Stanford, “me, and Brucie all get together and talk science in my penthouse for hours.”

“Penthouse?” Ford squinted suspiciously at Stark. Last time he had been in a penthouse, it had been with Bill. He decided he didn’t like Stark. With all his charms, and penthouse, quick words...he was a bit like Bill.

“It’ll be fun. Deal?”

Too much like Bill. Ford grabbed his gun, using his last bits of energy to use the wall to shove himself up and lean against the wall. His head spun as he did so, but he shook it away, focused on aiming. Tony’s eyes widened, likely confused by the sudden change in behavior as the older man shakily pointed the gun at his chest.

“Stanford, you’re bleeding!” Thor exclaimed, seemingly unconcerned with Ford threatening his friend-ally?

“Stand down, Dr. Pines!” A shout from above, and he jerked as an arrow nearly impaled his throat. He knew it was a trap.

“Wait, wait, Hawky! Barton! Don’t shoot him. Thor says there’s been some misinformation. I think we should all just put down our weapons and, for lack of better wording, talk it out.” Stark’s order was ignored for the most part, but the archer stepped out of the shadows, crouching on a nearby rooftop. The same man from earlier.

“Fury gave us an order, Stark.”

“I don’t work for Fury. And you can’t tell me that something rubs you a little wrong?”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“Yes, well, that was before Thor told me that this guy traveled dimensions for years. C’mon, Hawky, it’ll be fun. We can stage a huge jailbreak-“

Ford’s hearing began going out, probably caused by the fact that he was ready to face plant right onto the ground below him. Face-planting was ungainly, he reminded himself, but he found himself doing it anyway, embracing the darkness.

* * *

 

Stanley paced, paced, paced, unable to help himself as he waited. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but he was waiting. Michaels and his crew were long gone, and there was only darkness, broken by the flicker or lights, as he walked.

He was cold.

He didn’t know if Ford was alright, or where he was, or even if he was bleeding out somewhere in a back alley. Maybe he was- no. Stanley refused to think about that. He kept pacing.

He was wet.

 _How long had it been anyway?_ The thought lingered in his mind and he sat heavily on the bed.

His lungs hurt.

The sound of the door being opened reached his ears, and without hesitation, he rose and ran to the bars, immediately grabbing at a shirt collar before even seeing the face, pulling them as close to the bars as possible.

“Come back so soon? I’m not telling you shit!” Stan growled, and the person beneath him stiffened, letting out a tiny huff of a laugh.

“Wrong person. Not Michaels. Bruce, if you remember.”

Stan released the man, giving him a once-over. He was shrimpy, definitely, but he knew that he couldn’t judge people off their looks.

“What do you want?”

Bruce gave him a wry grin, pulling out a keycard. “I’ve been recruited for a rescue party.”

Stan couldn’t help but grin back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated, though not mandatory :) (they do make my happy though)
> 
> -Pine


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, surprisingly, everything goes as planned. (But not really.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to a guest named "Carmen" who wrote me a very long comment on the chapter before and reminded me that I need to finish this fic. 
> 
> Thank you, Carmen.
> 
> So much bullshit in this chapter.

“What do you want?”

Bruce gave him a wry grin, pulling out a keycard. “I’ve been recruited for a rescue party.”

Stan couldn’t help but grin back.

* * *

 

_Three Hours Prior_

* * *

 

Ford awoke with a groan, eyes opening to the sight of a blurry white ceiling. He could feel tight bandages encircling his shoulder, and a quick twitch of his leg showed the same. Instinctively reaching for his glasses, he felt an all too familiar pinch around his right wrist. Handcuffs. He had stepped right into the trap of an enemy.

A feeling of resignation rested upon him as he sighed. At least he could enjoy the rest of his life with Stanley, although it would likely be in a jail cell. He knew he was being stubborn to not just tell them what happened, but he couldn’t help but think of the townspeople. They’d already been through hell and it would be even worse if government agents came through and ransacked their homes because of him. His research would be stolen.

But Stanley.

He had already thrown his life away for Ford twice, spending thirty years to bring his ungrateful ass back when he could have been building a family, getting a real job, or even going to college, and then he sacrificed again once more when Ford couldn’t say thank you and Bill had threatened the kids and Stan had given his memory.

It would be wrong to continue with his stubborn ways and let Stan suffer again for his own mistakes.

The door opened. “Told you he wasn’t going to go all feral again,” Goatee-Not-Quite-Bill-Stark said, walking into the room, a confident swagger in his steps. Not that Ford could exactly see it, but he could tell just from the tone of voice, regardless.

“Tony, don’t antagonize him,” a quiet voice chided, a man with curly, dark, hair that Ford didn’t recognize the source of it.

A lady with red hair slipped into the room, which Ford may not have noticed if he wasn’t already wary, along with two men with short blond hair. One of them was dressed in mostly black, and the other wearing some sort of plaid and khakis. Finally, Thor, who towered over all of them, strode in, effectively blocking the entry, not that Ford could get out anyway. Not without breaking a few fingers.

“Jarvis, unlock our guest, please,” Stark said to the air, and just like that, Ford’s wrist was free. He stared at Stark, then back to his wrist.

“Are you a warlock? Or sorcerer? I wasn’t aware that they had those in this dimension.”

“What?” Curly asked and Stark laughed, which made Ford feel a bit foolish, but what other reasonable response could there have been for the unlocking?

“Unfortunately not. I’m just a genius, engineer, billionaire-“ Curly elbowed Stark at this point. “-and all that. My AI, Jarvis, he’s the one who makes the magic happen.”

Ford had no idea what an AI was. Luckily, he didn’t have to ask as Stark continued, “AI stands for artificial intelligence. Which I won’t get into because Natasha is giving me a death glare, but I had to explain for the sake of all people over sixty in the room. Cap, Thor, looking at you too.”

Ford took the opportunity to grab his glasses, placing them on his face. Thor ignored Stark’s jab, rather stepping forward. “Stanford, these are my allies. Man of Iron, Tony Stark, Doctor Bruce Banner, Hawkeye, Steve Rogers, Captain of America, and Lady Romanoff, the Black Widow.” He pointed to them in turn so Ford was able to place a name with a face. He found it a bit odd that they all had codenames, but he disregarded it. Maybe it had to do with their involvement with a government agency.

But what type of codenames were Black Widow and Iron Man? And why reuse Captain America?

”Friends, this is Doctor Stanford Pines, one of the few humans to travel between dimensions successfully.”

“Dimensions?” Steve asked, and Tony nodded excitedly.

“Which is why we are going to help him out so that he can teach us how to do it. Right, Fordsie?”

“Would you stop calling me nicknames? My name is either Ford or Stanford! Not Sixer, or Stanley, and especially not Fordsie!” Ford snapped before going still and silent as he saw Hawkeye’s hand do a little twitch towards his hip holster.

“Okay...got it. Anyway, while you were conked out for ten hours, impressive time, may I say, we and by we, I mean I devised a great plan to get you and your brother out of SHIELD prison.”

_Ten hours? God, I hope Stanley is okay._

“It starts with us getting some food because I’m very hungry and all I’ve had are three cups of coffee and if I don’t eat anything soon, Pepper will probably kill me.”

“I thought he was being extra hyper,” Romanoff murmured none-so quietly to Hawkeye with a smirk.

“Then, after we eat, the plan is-- first, Romanoff, Rogers, you’ll be the R Squad. I want you two to keep an eye out.”

“Why should I help you? What do I get out of this?” Romanoff interjected, looking very unimpressed.

“Well, I’ll make you new Widow’s Bites and a whole afternoon with our lovely resident scientist, Banner. Same goes for anyone who doesn’t want to go through with this mission. I’ll build your weapon of choice and you’ll get my science bro for an afternoon.” Stark offered, shoving the blushing, curly-haired man forward. Romanoff seemed to contemplate the offer before agreeing.

“...Fine. Pass on Banner, though. No offense, Doc.”

“None taken.”

“Dibs on the Doc first, Cap,” Hawkeye said with a smirk and Rogers just shrugged.

Ford was utterly confused. Banter flew over his head, but he knew enough to know they were some sort of team and Banner might either have an MD or Ph.D. and Stark was their weapon supplier.

“Anyway, R Squad watches out-- shut up Hawkeye, I know you want to be lookout, but it makes sense for you and I to bring him in since we were part of the original team and I don’t want to be stuck with Captain-No-Cussing.”

Ford could deduce that Steve was the leader, which made sense. He had read a few Captain America comics as a kid, so he supposed that as the head of a government team and someone who had apparently been in the military at some point in his life, it was easy to get stuck with the nickname “Captain America” especially when holding the same name and a close enough resemblance.

“Stark-” Stark cut the Captain off.

“So then Brucie goes in.”

“What? Are you serious? What about the-” Stark shushed Banner.

“Yes, he held a knife to your throat, but you didn’t Hulk-Out. Also, you’re the smallest and least noticeable one of us. Which is why you’ll have to steal the key from a guard and slip in while Stanford creates a distraction,” Stark’s voice was the softest Ford had heard it all day, but Banner shook his head regardless.

“This isn’t a good idea, Tony.”

“I second that,” Hawkeye agreed, speaking up.

“You don’t get an opinion, Bird-Brain. You get arrows. Either way, after Brucie steals the keys, Point Break uses his lightning powers to fry the circuits and take out the lights. I’ll get my hands on the backup generator, or rather, Jarvis will. Then boom, we bust your brother out, you two science with us, then you go back on your boat. Sound like a plan, Stanford?”

 “How big of a scene do you want me to make?” Ford asked, tapping his fingers on his thigh and counting each one as they went. _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6._

“Hmm...the car. Except about times three. I give you permission to bite Hawkeye.”

“If you bite me, I will not hesitate to sedate you,” Hawkeye said dryly, glaring at Stark.

“He’s joking,” Stark added upon seeing a look of hesitance flash across Ford’s face. Ford had no desire to be sedated again. A memory of the chair, the photos. Interrogation. Screaming. Electricity. The laughter.

“Great, you broke him,” he faintly heard Stark grumble.

_It’s only a matter of time, Sixer! Only a matter of time before you break and give me the code, buddy. Better to just give it up now!_

He flinched as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “You with us, Dr. Pines?”

Ford blinked, taking a quick glance around the room. No Bill. Just Banner looking concerned, Stark looking puzzled, Romanoff’s blank expression, Thor’s worried one, and Hawkeye’s faintly guilty one. Then, of course, the Captain’s blue eyes giving him the most earnest expression possible as he knelt at eye level with Ford.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he said gruffly, trying to act like he hadn’t just flashbacked in the presence of all these people. “Let’s do it.”

“Good.” The relief was palpable in Stark’s voice. “Autobots, roll out.”

Ford was grateful that he wasn’t the only one who was confused as Thor quietly muttered, “Pardon?”

* * *

 

“These are fake handcuffs. They can be broken with very little force. Don’t break them early.” The “or else our cover is blown and I won’t fight for you against my own organization” was unspoken as Romanoff closed them with a click, hands behind his back. Ford grunted in affirmation and she nodded, walking away with Rogers and Banner.

“May lady luck be with you, comrades,” Thor called, swinging his hammer a few times before taking off into the sky. Ford felt minor comfort from knowing his friend wasn’t going to be too far from the building. Hawkeye and Stark were now alone with him.

“Alright, show time.” Ford could swear that Stark’s voice was different and he turned to see a large robot, red and gold and shiny with a blank face and glowing circle in the chestpiece. He felt his eyes go wide, jaw dropping ever so slightly. He had always thought Fiddleford’s inventions were amazing, but this was a whole new thing.

“Sweet Moses, what an incredible piece of engineering!” he exclaimed, unable to stop himself as it took another step nearer. He saw Hawkeye roll his eyes in his peripheral vision, but he didn’t care.

“What, is this your first time seeing my suit? Never seen it on television or anything?”

“I-uh...haven’t had time to watch television since I returned from the portal. It’s only been a few months. Stanley didn’t tell me that the world had advanced so much that there were now robots walking among us! How do you do it? Is it remotely piloted? It can’t be safe for a human in there, can it?”

The faceplate went up, exposing Stark’s smug smile. “It can.”

“Are you two done nerding so we can get this over with?” Hawkeye asked irritably.

“I’ll tell you all about the future after this is over.” The faceplate went back, the cold face of the robot there once more. The metal hand gripped his uninjured shoulder tightly, and he stiffened, planting his feet into the gravel as he tried to force just enough fear to give himself a fight or flight reaction, but not too much to go into what Stan called “Feral Ford Mode” despite Ford himself despising the name.

It was semi-successful as he let out a snarl, heart pounding as he tried to twist away from Stark and his metal, snapping at Hawkeye in a way that must have made him look desperate as the blond man walked by his side, ignoring him. He let his legs give, though Stark’s grip on him was unfailing. There was a brief, uncomfortable, moment where his knees hit the ground and a jolt of pain ran up his leg.

“C’mon, Pines. Stop resisting,” Stark said, voice robotic as he hauled Ford back to his feet again, dragging him forward.

“Fuck you!” Ford hissed, and this time he really couldn’t stop the fear that was rapidly beginning to make him very anxious as they got closer and closer to the door. _What if it was a trap? It was probably a trap. Easy. All you have to do is get Stanley out. Trade yourself for Stanley._

“Easy, Pines,” Hawkeye muttered, giving him a slightly concerned sideways glance.

 _Why did you even think you could trust these people? Government agency, ya dummy. Never trust cops._ His inner voice was beginning to sound a lot like Stanley.

“Please don’t have a heart attack, old man,” he heard dimly. They were so close to the door. If it was a trap, all he had to do was trade himself for Stanley. He could do this.

The doors opened. The man from his interrogation, the man whose name he would never forget, Michaels, stood there, looking smug. “Agent Romanoff told me you’d be here soon. Good to see you again Pines. Director Fury and Agent Hill are waiting to see you two. Debriefing and something classified. You can just hand-”

Ford lunged at Michaels, breaking Stark’s grasp and handcuffs in one solid movement as he tackled him. There were agents everywhere, unfortunately, so Ford was almost immediately pinned down as he cursed the man in every language he knew.

Then there was a boom of thunder and the lights flickered, once, twice...darkness. Ford grinned. 

* * *

 

Stan waited as Bruce peeked around a corner before stepping into the hallway with a quiet, “Follow me.”

It was obvious now from his utter lack of muscles, coordination, or any type of coolness that Bruce was no kind of agent at all. A gust of strong wind probably could have knocked the man over. Stan decided that he would trust the man for now, but if he crossed him...well, it wouldn’t be pretty.

“How’d you get to be working for a place like this?” Stan asked, attempting to make small talk as he followed the shorter man down the empty hall.

“Oh, I don’t work here. Not technically, anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They don’t really like me. They think I’m... too destructive. No one stops me from entering, though. They’re scared of me.” Bruce let out a bitter laugh. Stan eyed Bruce a bit. He was still scrawny and tiny. Why would anyone be scared of him?

“Uh…”

“Just around this corner- shit. Hide.”

Where? Stan thought as he frantically ducked into the connecting hall. There were no doorways or anything to try to get into and shield himself, so he just flattened himself against the wall praying that no one would walk down the hallway.

“Hello,” he heard Bruce say quietly to someone.

“H-hello Doctor Banner,” was the response. The other person’s footsteps picked up a bit as she basically sped-walked away, not even bothering to look in the direction that Stanley was hiding. A few seconds passed before Banner muttered, “Let’s go, Mr. Pines.” Stan quickly removed himself from the wall, catching up with his companion.

“Call me Stan, please.”

“Bruce,” he replied with a small grin despite probably remembering the closet incident. Stan was grateful that he didn’t bring it up.

“So what’s the plan, Bruce?”

“My teammates and your brother are currently causing a distraction. Um...the lights should be going off in...three...two…” the lights flickered twice and then the two of them were enclosed in darkness.

“We’ll have to hurry,” Bruce muttered, fiddling with his watch. It began to emit a light and as Bruce begin to confidently jog, Stan hurried, following behind him. “That’s a cool watch,” he whispered, only because it felt appropriate for the silence that seemed to echo through the building.

“Made it myself. Don’t even think of stealing it.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’ve pickpocketed before. I know one when I see one,” was all Bruce said, rounding a corner. A whole swarm of agents were in the lobby, and for one split second, before the light turned off, Stan could see his brother right in the middle. He pushed past Banner, throwing himself into the fray without a second chance.

“Stan!” he heard the man yell, but ignored it in favor or socking the nearest agent in the jaw.

“Oh God,” he heard someone groan from the sidelines. He didn’t look to see who it was.

“Stop!” an authoritative voice yelled, and coupled with the lights, it was enough to shock just about everyone.

“God, I don’t know why I act like anyone here is competent. All of you are idiots.” Director Fury stood tall, glaring heavily at the mess of agents. “Stark, I know this is your fault. I want all Avengers assembled in my office in five minutes.” He paused, narrowing his eye. “I want all agents back to their workspaces immediately. Michaels, you’re taken off this case. Tampering with cameras are not allowed, so you’re fired as well. I want your junk out of here within the next hour.”

“What-?”

Fury talked straight over Michaels. “As for Pines...you two have been a couple of pains in my asses. Just go. Before I change my mind, preferably.”

Ford and Stan exchanged glances. Stan shrugged, wiping bloody knuckles on his shirt. “Promise me we won’t ever see your agents again.”

“Sure. Johnson, please escort these two. Avengers- my office.”


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop, this is the ending.

“Do you ever wonder why they just let us go?”

It had been mere hours since they had been let go by Fury and Stan had never been so grateful to smell the sea breeze. They had almost immediately left the port after they had reached the boat and Ford had insisted that they threw their clothes overboard. Not because they were stinky, smelly, bloody, and they had been wearing them for what felt like a week, but because he was worried they were bugged. Afterward, Ford had instead on helping Stan splint his broken fingers and wrap his rib, despite his brother’s protests, changed his own bandages, and began writing in his “boat journal” as Stan called it.

“No,” Ford replied from his desk, scribbling something furiously into his journal.

“You know what, Ford?”

“Hm?”

“That was not the worst prison I’ve ever been in.”

“Likewise. Though can I say-- I’ve got two regrets.”

“What are they, Poindexter?”

“Not killing Michaels, for one. And leaving before I ever had time to check out Stark’s technology.”

“Oh…well, check out what I grabbed.”

“ _Grabbed?_ ” Ford asked, putting his pen down and turning to Stan with a slightly alarmed and skeptical look.

“Grabbed, stole, no difference. It’s a watch with a flashlight in it!”

“Stanley…”

* * *

 

"Do I even want to know what happened today? You let a criminal talk you into invading a government building? Or did you all just lose your collective minds for a whole day?”

“I wanted to science with him, director. How is that my fault? He told me that he got to travel portals for years,” Stark quickly removed his feet from the table at the death glare that was immediately directed at him from Hill. “I mean, I can’t speak for the others, but I science was my motivation.”

“Boredom was mine,” Clint spoke up.

Steve just let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Doctor Pines and his brother are heroes, Director Fury. I could not continue to let them be held for crimes that they did not commit. If this is how heroes are treated on Midgard, then I cannot continue to let this continue,” Thor said.

Fury slowly closed his eye, counted to ten, and opened it. “The council is going to have my ass for this.” He reached into his trenchcoat, and Tony stiffened for a moment, half-sure that Nick was going to pull out a gun and shoot them all.

Rather, he pulled out a dinged-up looking red and gold book, placing it on the table top. “Today, this appeared out of nowhere in one of the labs. It wasn’t there then, poof, it was. He turned the cover to face them. Red with a gold, six-fingered hand traced and the number “3” written in bold ink.

“Woah,” Tony heard Banner exhale, and Fury nodded.

“Likely from our six-fingered friend, Stanford. I have no idea how he did it, but it’s here. Unfortunately, a lot of it is in code.” He tossed the journal to Tony, who caught it, staring at it in awe.

“New job, Stark. Decode this.”

**END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last two chapters of this sucked and it's my bad because I sat down for like four hours with the intent to finish them and I suck as a writer.
> 
> I just wanted to get this over with.
> 
> Anyway, hope you somehow enjoyed this shit and hope to see you again sometime.
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> Pine.


End file.
